


Unbalanced

by sastiel_and_such



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexuality, Fluff, M/M, ace!cas, ace!sam, suicidal!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9168280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sastiel_and_such/pseuds/sastiel_and_such
Summary: Sam is depressed and suicidal, and once he meets a nurse (Castiel) in the psychiatric ward that he's admitted into, he learns a lot about himself while also improving his mental state.





	1. Admittance

How could he deal with this? How was he supposed to already have the world upon his shoulders, and have more weight added upon it, pressing him? He didn’t know what to do with this information on a chilly September night. He dropped the journal to the floor, and went to his room.

Sam locked the door behind him, and started digging through his boxes near his bed. Dean thought he threw them all away, but he found a pocket knife wrapped in paper underneath some old photographs of the family. Seeing them only made Sam’s eyes sting more, especially the ones of his mom. She never would have wanted this for him.

He pulled the blade out, turned his arm, and slowly cut near his wrist, below his palm. He groaned at the sharp pain that the deep wounds started out as, but sighed when they turned into pleasurable, numbing pain. Pain that he had control over, and that he could stop at any time. But he didn’t want to stop. He deserved this, because all he seemed to do was be a burden on his dead father, and now a burden on his brother.

He pulled the blade away, and cut slightly below where he had just been. This time, deeper. He told himself to quit being a coward, to just kill himself already. This wound bled more. It bled darker, thicker blood. The smell of copper filled the air around Sam as he began to feel light-headed. Maybe Dean wouldn’t have to pay anymore hospital bills if he just finished it.

He stood up in front of the bed, attempting to make his way across the room for paper towels. The blood went onto Sam’s outer shirt, staining it. After taking a step however, he fell with a loud thud onto the carpet floor, which was now decorated with red spots.

“Sam?” Dean asked, trying the door handle. “SAMMY!” he screamed. He kept fiddling with the door handle, but stopped abruptly after a few seconds. Sam heard footsteps, and soon the door was kicked open from the outside. Paint flew off of the door frame next to Sam. He was lying on the floor, clutching his arm. God, why didn’t he just do it? The last thing he saw before blacking out was Dean getting onto the floor, cupping his face in his calloused hands.

. . .

When Sam awoke, all he saw were quick blurs running past him until his vision cleared. Then he realized that he was on a flat surface, and he was somewhere that smelled like ammonia. He figured it was Lawrence Memorial Hospital, judging by the light blue paint on the walls. He had seen it enough times to know.

He looked down at his arm, which had bandages wrapped around it, and he heard Dean yelling obscenities at the doctors who were pushing Sam’s gurney along the hallway. They halted and turned into a room labeled “Transfusions.”

They sat Sam up, lifted him, put him on a small bed in the room, and stuck his good arm with a giant needle before hooking it up to a long tube, and then a bag full of blood. The warm, red liquid was running through the tube now into Sam’s body. He shivered, because even though the blood was warm, it wasn’t his body’s temperature.

“How long is this gonna take?” Dean urgently inquired.

“About an hour, maybe longer to make sure everything ran smoothly,” a nurse nearby replied.

“Can I go to sleep? Please,” Sam asked nostalgically. 

Dean got a shake of the head from one of the doctors. “Sammy I need you to stay awake, okay? Please stay awake, and just talk to me.” He grabbed Sam’s hand, and sat on a chair near the bed.

Sam got a good look at what Dean was wearing. He was wearing sweatpants and an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt, with some crappy looking flip-flops. He was probably in bed when he heard Sam fall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to go through this again, and make you come down…”

“Sam, I will come down here whenever I have to.” He squeezed Sam’s hand and smiled sadly. Dean had lost count how many times they had been in the hospital, but Sam had never lost enough blood to get a transfusion before. 

Dean also had a million thoughts racing through his head at all once. He always thought the worst, but learned through experience to never delve too deep into said thoughts, because then he would act strangely enough for Sam to notice. And Sam didn’t need any more reasons to cut.

“Sammy, what happened? What drove you to this?” Dean’s eyes were glassy.

He only wanted to stop the pain. He never felt right. Since he found out he was gay, his entire view on life went downhill, and bullies ever helped. Sam’s own father never even approved of Sam’s lifestyle, but died trying to defend it against some jackass in a bar. 

And when he also came out as asexual? He was immediately labelled as a freak, someone who was broken, someone who would never know love. He knew that Dean would always love him, but it was hard to believe some days when he found Dean crying to Bobby in the body shop about his baby brother.

“I… found Dad’s journal,” Sam started, but then stopped abruptly. He looked at his knees, noticing the blood that must have fallen on them while he was relishing in the pain that he deserved earlier. Why didn’t he just go through with his escape plan? “He always wondered apparently when I’d stop being such a fuck up.” He sat his head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling, sighing. He would cry, except that he ran out of tears when he found the journal initially.

“Sammy, you’re not a fuck up, no matter what dad says,” Dean explained, trying his hardest to get through to Sam. “He may not have accepted you like I do, but he died trying to protect your good name.”

“Which isn’t something that I asked him to do,” Sam pointed out.

“But he did because he loved you-”

“But he for some reason cared where my genitals did or didn’t go?” Sam raised his voice when he said this. He never understood the ironic concern. It was wrong to be gay, but then when he didn’t want to act on it too far, it was wrong? 

“Sam, he was an ignorant bastard, okay?!” Dean stood, and let go of Sam’s hand. “He didn’t know! Gay in his day was bad, and asexual didn’t exist to him until you told him!”

Sam looked hurt and angry at the same time. He was at a loss for words.

Sensing this, Dean sat back down and put his face in his hands. “Sammy, I-”

“I know you’re sorry.”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

“But I don’t want you to always have to worry about me,” Sam cried.

“It’s my job!” Dean whimpered back, pulling his face up. “I will worry about you until one of us dies.” He buried his face again. “I hope it’s me before you.”

Sam glanced over at Dean and underneath the ratty pajamas. He saw a broken man who felt like he had no control over the one person he loved most, and he just wanted it to stop. But not like Sam. Sam wanted it to end. 

Right then, a nurse walked in and shook the blood bag before unattaching the IV from Sam’s arm. She took the needle out of Sam’s arm with a groan of pain from Sam, and walked out. A doctor walked in and handed paperwork to Dean. With a nod, he walked to Sam next. Dean already knew what to fill out.

“Mr. Winchester, we’d like to move you to the psych ward and do an evaluation for the weekend. This is the seventh time you’ve been here because of a close call. We know that you are depressed and suicidal, but we want to analyze your sleep patterns as well as do a psychoanalysis, and maybe change your prescriptions and see what the next move is.”

“My brother isn’t crazy, doc,” Dean said, standing up. “And I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you guys treating him as such.”

“Dean…” Sam tried.

“Mr. Winchester, we don’t really like to throw the word crazy around, and we don’t think his brain function is hindered in any way, but there is something, or some event, that is causing him to be this way. It would be best if we could observe and find out how to treat his, in my theory, hormonal imbalance,” he replied impatiently. “I won’t be doing it. That would be our head nurse, Dr. Tippens. He works in the psych ward.”

“So you’re not gonna do some crazy tests on my brother. Just watch him?” Dean asked suspiciously. The doctor nodded.

“I mean, if you guys can help me, fine. If not, just let me…” 

“No, Sam. We’re gonna try to help you, okay? I don’t need this to happen again.” Dean handed the paperwork back to the doctor and rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and looking into his eyes. “You’re not gonna quit on me, because I’m gonna keep looking out for you. That’s my job right? Watch out for my pain in the ass little brother?” Dean smiled and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, I’ll stay for the weekend. Please come see me, okay?”

“I mean, I have to come back anyway to give you clothes.”

“Don’t sound too excited, Dean,” Sam added with a laugh.

Dean stuck his tongue out. The doctor nodded again and left with the papers. “They’re gonna take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”


	2. Introduction

“Ok princess, Dean and I got all of your stuff out of the car for you,” Bobby Singer laughed, setting down the overnight bags. He walked over to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. “Seriously though, are you okay kid?”

Sam lifted up one half of his mouth. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” He was sitting in a new hospital bed in his room where he would be staying for the weekend. He was asked not to leave, so Dean and Bobby brought his stuff in.

Dean walked through the door just then, holding up a small box. “I got a surprise for you, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled. “Sammy is a five year old kid.”

“Then tell me where to find him, because I could have sworn that he liked Harry Potter.”

“No way… Did you buy me hard copies?” He was sitting up in the bed now, swinging his feet over the side. 

“Yes I did, because I know how much your nerdy self likes JK Rowling and looks up to her for your own writing,” Dean laughed, setting the box on the bed. It contained all seven hardcover books, complete with the new book smell that only lasts for a few days. He also brought Sam’s laptop and idea journal.

Sam stood up and Dean pulled him down into a hug, not caring about the height difference. He brought his mouth close to Sam’s ear while Bobby continued organizing the bags in the room. “I’m not giving up on you, do you hear me? I’m gonna be in here every day after work with Bobby, to spend time with you. These nurses are going to take great care of you, I promise.”

Sam squeezed Dean tightly and stood back. Bobby came up and pulled Sam into a hug again. “I ain’t cuttin’ you loose, boy. I’ll be back when I can, ya hear?”

“Thank you, Bobby.” Sam stepped back and looked at both of them. The only family he had left stood in front of him. Thinking about killing himself made him sad not just because it seemed like the only option that had a happy ending, but because then he would leave them to being the only two left. 

A quiet knock came from the doorway, and a young-looking nurse poked her head in. She smiled and walked in, heading over to Dean while her red ponytail swayed. “Hey there, I’m Nurse Milton, the RN of the psych-ward.” She held out a hand to Dean, who took it warmly and smiled.

“I’m Dean Winchester, but please call me Dean,” he said in a husky voice.

Nurse Milton smiled. “And you can call me Anna. Do you have any questions before we begin the evaluation?”

Dean glanced at Sam, who gave a quick shake of the head. “I think we’ve got everything-”

“Sorry I’m late! There was an accident on K-8.”

Every head turned to the man who entered into the room. He also wore scrubs, but seemed to look more official than Anna, like he was her boss. His dark brown hair was askew and he held his coffee in one hand, alongside some papers.

Sam had taken his eyes off of Dean and realized just how aesthetically pleasing this guy was. He took a second to really notice his figure and tone of his smooth skin. The guy’s blue eyes made it difficult for Sam to take his eyes off of him.

Anna smiled. “That’s okay, you texted me, remember?”

The man smiled, and set his coffee and papers down. “You’re right, but you know how bad my memory is. Is this our new addition for the weekend?” he asked, motioning to Sam.

“Yes sir, he’s gonna be with us until Monday,” Anna added. She put a soft hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Castiel Tippens, the nurse practitioner for this part of the hospital.” He extended a hand to Sam, and stared into his eyes, admiring the aged-whiskey color that they were.

Sam took it, also looking into the blue eyes that seemed to stare into his soul. His mouth fell slightly open and he was at a loss for words. He almost felt embarrassed that so many people in the room knew about his issues, and he wished that he could cover his scarred arms at the moment. “Sam Winchester. I’m not crazy,” he squeaked, putting his hand out.

Castiel laughed and took his hand away, putting it on his hip. “I didn’t think you were. You’re here so we can just see how to improve your mental state. But that doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you.”

Sam felt good that he wasn’t being talked down to, like he felt with the doctor yesterday. 

After a few more minutes of chatter, Dean hugged Sam again and promised to come by later, and Bobby smirked and lightly smacked Sam on the back. Anna nodded to Castiel and swiftly headed out, speed-walking down the hallway.

This left Nurse Tippens alone with Sam, who decided to sit back on the bed. It was barely noon, and the depression had already begun to drain Sam’s mental capacity. He sighed.

“Depression, am I right? It’s a real bitch.”

Sam quickly turned his head to Castiel. “Have you been…?”

“I used to be, and still might get some sad spurts here and there, but honestly this hospital helped me.” He sat on the bed. “That, and plenty of SSRIs,” he chuckled.

“You seem pretty chill for someone so high up.”

“I know what it’s like to be on rock bottom and feel like all is lost.” He stood back up. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about your treatment plan.”

“What do you mean? I thought I was just gonna spill my problems.”

Nurse Tippens shook his head. “We are, but I also need to see what medicine I can prescribe and administer to you and how you respond to the talk therapy.”

“Will I be speaking to you?” Sam asked hopefully.

“I’ll be here a lot, but you’ll mostly be talking to the ward’s therapist, Dr. Masters. She’s very understanding of these things and knows how to deal with it.” 

Sam stood back up, trying to keep his eyes focused in front of him, and walked over to the box of books, and grabbed his laptop. “Can I use this until she gets here?”

“You’re more than welcome to. We also have a TV, if you want.” Cas said, motioning to the corner.

“That’s okay, I want to write some,” he replied, also grabbing his scratch journal.

“I see. What exactly do you write about?”

Sam got a little flustered and covered his face with his hair so the blush wasn’t so obvious. “Um, just… short stories and what not… I also dream of leaving.”

“Why?”

“This hellhole is full of bad memories,” Sam grumbled.

“What kind of short stories do you write, Sam?” Castiel asked curiously. He walked towards Sam and tried to see the scribbles in his notebook. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” He smiled.

“It’s just…” He was interrupted by a shorter woman who looked to be around thirty and have plenty of experience up her sleeve walk in. 

“Sam… Winchester?” She looked down at her clipboard and back at Sam’s face, half-smiling. “I’m… Oh, crap....” She was cut off when a scream came from down the hall. “Hold on, I think it’s Adam again,” she said as she started to dash out of the room and down the hallway.

“That’s Dr. Masters, or Meg. She’s the therapist I was talking about. A good woman, but she’s more concerned about other people’s health than her own,” Nurse Tippens said, crossing his arms. “But she’ll be back in a minute. What were you saying about your writing?”

“I just don’t really think you’d understand why I write about the stuff I do,” Sam hesitantly replied.

Cas sat down next to Sam and rested his chin on one of his hands. “Try me. I’ve been in the same boat, remember?”

Sam felt like he could trust Castiel for some reason. He thought Nurse Tippens was someone who understood how it felt to be useless, yet overcame it and ended up where he is now. Almost feeling inferior to the male nurse, Sam sighed. “It’s about… monsters. Demons and what not.”

“And? Any significance?”

“Well, I almost feel that I battle my own monsters inside, and it helps to put a name to a face, or a monster to a face, ya know? I just…” Meg walked back in as Sam was pouring out his innermost thoughts without even realizing it. Once he figured out what he had just done, he wished he could take it back and just bury his face in a pillow. 

“Sorry about that. Adam was having more, uh, hallucinations. I think you should check on him,” she said, nodding at Nurse Tippens. 

“Will do. Sam, I’ll be back later to check on you.” With that, he was gone.

“So, I’m Meg Masters, or Meg, or Dr. Masters, whatever makes you comfortable.” She grabbed the clipboard she had put down earlier before she left the room. “I’m the ward’s therapist and…”

“Here to figure out what’s wrong with me?” Sam interjected bluntly. He didn’t want to be treated like a child or treated like he was some sort of freak. 

“Here to treat you,” she finished, raising an eyebrow but still smiling. “We don’t think any of you are crazy, despite what you may think. We just want to help you guys feel normal, because you seem to think you’re not on the same planet as everyone else.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. When he actually thought about it, he wasn’t on another planet feeling alone. Others had similar problems, and sometimes worse problems. He liked how short and to-the-point Dr. Masters was. “Well, I hope you guys succeed, because it’d been rough for me.”

Meg seemed to conjure a pen and paper out of thin air. “How so?”

The only thoughts that went through Sam’s mind were dealing with the fact that the medical professionals didn’t really help. It always seemed to be about medicine. And what did talking really even do? The problems he was having didn’t really go away when he talked about how he was feeling. “Just, ya know, everything has been rough.”

“Everything? Even the way you poop?”

Sam busted out in laughter, and was actually doubled over in the chair. When it came down to it, his sense of humor was that of a child’s, but he would never let Dean know that. And honestly, he hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. “Not that specifically, no.” He chuckled. “But neither of my parents are still living, and I feel like a burden on my brother, who is probably worrying about me at this very moment.”

Dr. Masters smiled. “I’m glad to see you laugh, Samuel. But I’m sorry to hear about your folks. As for Dean,” she continued as she scribbled onto the paper, “what makes you think you’re a ‘burden?’”

Sam held out his arm, because now he felt he could show his scars without ten pairs of eyes looking upon them like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. “I fail, every time.” He sighed. “I can never bring myself to actually do it. People who I don’t care for somehow get the best of me and make me feel guilty for wanting to hurt myself.”

“It seems like a vicious cycle you go through.” She put her hand under Sam’s arm, observing it. “How many times have you attempted suicide, Sam?”

He held up both of his hands. This was gonna take a while.


	3. Extension

It was late in the evening, and Dean had made his way back to Sam’s hospital room. He felt okay talking now, because he finally got to sleep after all of the interaction for a few hours.

“Hey, De. Where’s Bobby at?” Sam questioned, sitting up. 

Dean nervously looked down at the wristband around Sam’s wrist, making him an official patient. “Sammy, he’s… having another… episode…”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Boy, this stuff seems to run in the family, huh?”

Dean looked up, tired from being in the shop all day with Bobby. “It just happened. He just started throwing stuff, until he broke down and I had to make him go inside.”

“I kinda understand though, he had no choice.”

“But he doesn’t see it that way. All he thinks is that he killed Aunt Karen by pulling the plug.”

“Nothing we can do though, because he won’t take any prescriptions that we suggest,” Sam huffed.

“Big talk, Sammy,” Dean laughed.

Sam stuck his tongue out. Just then, Nurse Milton walked in and smiled. “Hey, Sam, how are you feeling? Dinner should be ready soon, or you’re allowed to go to the cafeteria if you want.”

“I’m as good as I can be, and I might do that.” Sam actually felt decent after his talk with Dr. Masters and his nap. It was nice to get everything off of his chest at the moment. “You coming?” he asked Dean.

“Sure, let’s head out,” he replied, standing up. He pushed his chair back, and waited for Sam to get up so he could follow his out. As he walked by Nurse Milton however, his hand brushed hers. He could have sworn that he heard her giggle.

Red-faced, Dean caught up with Sam once they were in the hallway. “Dude, I think that hot nurse likes me.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah, I think she does.” He continued to stare straight ahead, but his mind was racing, and he almost walked into another person in scrubs while turning into another hallway.

“You okay there?” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up, I’ll be fine after I get some pie.” 

. . .

“What the hell is this shit?” Dean questioned, looking at his pie in disgust. He brought a napkin up to his mouth and spit out the bite of apple pie.

“Dean, it’s a hospital. What did you expect? It’s probably got barely any salt or sugar in it.” He brought a fork-full of salad to his mouth. 

Dean pushed away his $5 piece of pie away, looking repulsed. 

Sam laughed, but quickly stopped when he saw those blue eyes appear a few feet in front of him. 

“Sam, Dean, how are you guys?” Dr. Tippens asked with a plastic tray in his hand. 

Sam kept gazing at his eyes, not even realizing a question was directed towards him.

Dean sensed that Sam was ogling, and said, “Pretty good, care to join us?”

“I’ve got about half an hour before my shift, so sure.” He sat between Sam and Dean at the square table with a cheeseburger and fruit salad on his plate. Before digging in, he asked, “Sam, how are you feeling today? You look troubled.”

Sam looked dumbfounded. “Me? I’m… I’m doing as… as well as I can today. Yourself?” He never got nervous around people, not even those he was slightly interested in. He almost felt a connection between Castiel, and really wanted to get to know him. He looked at Dean, because he was sure that he was the reason his nerves were on edge. Having an older brother around made him realize over the years that embarrassing topics would eventually be brought up.

Castiel shrugged. “I have to work the night shift tonight. But, at least it’s mostly calm patients like you that I have to worry about tonight.” He picked up his fork and started on his fruit salad.

All of a sudden, a deep scream was echoing down the hallway until they saw the source of the noise as he ran past the entrance to the cafeteria, followed by a mixed herd of nurses and security.

Dr. Tippens frowned. “Poor Adam. I was really hoping that they wouldn’t have to restrain him tonight.”

“What’s up with him?” Dean asked, still glaring at his pie.

“Well, you’d have to ask him, because via HIPAA rules, I’m not allowed to say.” He pushed the empty container away and picked up his burger. “So, I figured I’d ask now since you’re both here, and the cafeteria is fairly deserted.” He leaned forward. “I’d like to keep Sam a little longer than the weekend.”

“Is there really that much wrong with me?” And just like that, Sam’s mood was back in the dumps.

“No Sam, there’s not.” Dean turned his attention to Castiel now. “Cas? Can I call you Cas? I’m gonna call you Cas.” Cas took a bite of his burger and nodded. “What’s the point of keeping him longer? Either give him some medicine or send him on his way once you get done observing him.”

“After what Dr. Masters told me, I feel that it’s necessary for some short-term care dealing with more observation, questioning, and figuring out what the next move is in general.” He took another bite and swallowed. “We would all feel a heavy weight on our consciences if we sent Sam home now, but especially me.” He looked into Sam’s eyes with understanding, and this once again made Sam’s heart rate pick up.

Dean stood and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, motioning for him to come with him. Sam sighed, knowing Dean would “talk” to him, but there was no use in fighting it. Cas got up after wiping his mouth with his napkin, and followed Dean into to hallway.

Dean looked down at Castiel, but not by much. “Listen, I don’t know you or if you’re trying to pull something. But if I find out that you hurt Sammy or you’re just trying to get more money from us, I will hunt you down, got me?” Dean didn’t realize how loud he was being until he noticed nurses giving him the stink eye as they walked past him. “My gut tells me to trust you, man. Please don’t make me regret it.”

“Mr. Winchester…”

“Dean.”

“Dean… I’m not an idiot. I can sense your extreme codependency on each other and I have also observed how much he cares about you. I’m not trying to ‘pull’ anything. I’m trying to help someone whom I see myself in.” He got close to Dean’s ear. “I’ve been in his situation, and all I want to do is help. I’ll be damned if I let Sam die on my watch.”

Dean backed away and nodded. They both headed back to the table and sat with Sam once more.

Dean reached over and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Are you alright with staying longer? Because we’ll do whatever you want to do…”

Sam sighed and looked at his legs. “I honestly don’t care. If it’ll heal me, great. If not, I’ll go back to-”

“No, you won’t go back to anything. Worst case scenario I’ll try you on some new prescriptions, but my DSN won’t let me let you leave untreated,” Nurse Tippens chimed in, and looked into Sam’s eyes. “This could be a good thing.”

Sam looked up from his lap at Castiel’s face. He saw crow’s feet near his eyes, a twinge of gray hair by his ears, and years of education and expertise behind his eyes. He couldn’t help but trust him, especially knowing that Castiel knew how he (mostly) felt. He felt himself staring, and brought his eyes back into focus. “Okay.”

Dean smiled, hand still on Sam’s shoulder, and he rubbed it back and forth. “I think it’ll do you some good. I’m gonna go home and get more clothes, okay?”

“Alright,” Sam grinned. Dean got up and smacked Cas lightly on the back before leaving. Sam got up and pushed his chair in, before motioning for Cas to go back to his room. “Shall we?”


	4. Conspiracy

“Alright, thanks again, Sam. Let me or one of the nurses know if you need anything, okay?” Dr. Masters said. 

“No problem,” Sam grunted. He wasn’t frustrated with Meg, it just took so much out of him to spill his guts every single day he was here. He rubbed his eyes before staring at the blue walls that surrounded him. He was allowed to ask to go downstairs and eat, since he wasn’t actually crazy like some of the people who were admitted.

He took out his journal, and began scribbling down some more ramblings in his current story about a werewolf, and made random doodles in the margins when he was thinking of the next line. After about fifteen minutes, he calmed down and put on his grippy socks before opening the door.

Sam was startled when he first opened the door because Adam was standing right next to his door, staring at him as he walked out. He didn’t know if he should speak first for fear of triggering him, so he stared back, meaning no harm.

“Sammy, right?” Adam spoke in a fairly gruff voice for someone so young. He was in a loose t-shirt, some torn jeans, and worn-out socks with some serious bedhead. 

“Just Sam, please.”

“Didn’t mean to offend.” he said without any emotion. “I wanted to tell you something, but not out here.”

“What’s wrong with the hallway? Would you care to join me downstairs for an early lunch..?” Sam offered.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Adam Milligan, army-retiree.” He held his hand out, and Sam shook it. “But no thanks, I gotta tell you somewhere more private, since everyone, even the voices can hear me out here.”

“The… voices?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, the doc says I have schizophrenia or something, but I know that people are always watching. I’m not as insane as they say. Can we sit in your room?”

“Uh…”

“Or mine even, I don’t care. Just not here,” Adam said hurriedly. He seemed more urgent now than before. 

Sam nodded, and followed Adam around a corner to his own room, which was only four doors down. Once inside, Sam could see the mess of papers and clothes strewn about his room in piles. Adam quickly closed the door, and quickly sat on his bed. “You know that nurse, Tippy?”

“Who?” Sam was worried now, because he started wondering if he should have ever come into this man’s room alone.

“The… Tippens guy. I call him Tippy. He’s always talking about you.” He threw his arms above his head in frustration. “Surely you hear him!” 

Sam just noticed the deep cuts going vertically up and down Adam’s arms. Some were patched up as they looked fresh, some were scars. “I can’t say I have.” He got hopeful. “What does he say?”

“Does he keep you here and ask deep questions? And what for?”

“I stay here because my brother and I seek help for myself, so yeah, he does I guess,” Sam said more defensively than he meant to.

“Listen Sam, I know all about loyalty, okay? That’s one thing I most definitely remember from the army. But that man likes you, so if you’re staying here because your brother wants you to, then good. But watch your back and make sure that’s why you’re here, and not for some nurse who has the hots for you.” Adam looked restless and very concerned for Sam.

“How do I know that what you’re saying is even legitimate? How do I know that you’re not just…”

“Crazy? Go ahead, everyone says it. I was captured and now I try to kill myself, of course people think there’s something wrong with me.” He sighed. “I know that people usually don’t trust me, because there is something wrong with me. But you’re different. You trust people, and that’s where you’re wrong.”

“How is that wrong?” Sam was beyond confused and flustered. He didn’t know why Adam cared, why Adam was talking to him of all people, and why he would say that Cas is keeping him here for other reasons.

“The ones you trust will turn on you, understand?! They all will!” He was off of the bed now, tears in his eyes, looking at something in the corner of the room. Sam turned, but nothing was there. “The ones I trusted didn’t have my back. I’d hate to see the same thing happen to someone with similar issues, okay?! It’s still engrained in my brain to help.”

Meg bursted into the room right then. “Adam, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just talking to my friend.” He motioned to Sam. “The discussion just got heated-”

“-And I’m leaving,” Sam chimed in. He stood and walked out followed by Adam sending him a pleading look. Sam looked back, wanting to understand what just happened, but his mind was racing on the issue at hand. Surely a man bound by HIPAA wouldn’t keep him here, and Dean would have caught on by now if anything fishy was going on, right? OR was he just letting his weird feelings for the man get in the way of his logical thinking? He shook his head, and began walking to the cafeteria.

. . .

Dean walked through Sam’s door, his arms full of more clothes and books, followed by Bobby, who looked like he was losing sleep.

“Hey boy, how ya holdin’ up?” Bobby inquired, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah don’t worry,” Dean interrupted, “I got it. I don’t need help with all these fucking boxes.”

Sam laughed. “I’ve been better, I guess. I met that guy Adam down the hall. I hate to call him crazy, but…”

“I get what ya mean,” Bobby finished. He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, watching Sam as he was sitting on the side of the bed, dragging books towards him.

“Knock knock, Sam,” Anna chimed in. She practically pranced over to Sam, making sure to brush Dean on her way by. “I have a new prescription that Nurse Tippens wants to try, since you said that your suicidal thoughts weren’t going away.” She held out a small blue pill. “It’s called Zoloft, and while it’s mostly used for people with brain injuries, it’s also an antidepressant, but a little less mild.”

Sam took it, and Anna turned her attention to Dean. “Take it with water okay, Sam? Hi, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean slyly smiled, enjoying how close Nurse Milton was to him. “Please, call me Dean,” he replied more gruffly than usual.

“Good Lord,” Bobby mumbled.

Dean shot him a glare.

Anna bursted with laughter. “Oh Mr. Winchester, that wouldn’t be professional!” She playfully punched him. “But if you insist, I will, Dean.” Dean looked high as Anna seemed to slowly close the space between their torsos without getting too close, until her phone rang. She grumbled. “Hi, this is Anna,” she said, changing tones.

She put the phone away after a quick conversation and looked to Sam. “Press the button if you need anything, alright Sam? I’ll talk to you later, Dean.” She giggled and swayed her red ponytail behind her as she turned to leave. 

Dean wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at her, his converse’s toes were pointed inward. He looked like a prepubescent teen who just saw the love of his life. 

“Earth to dumbass, we’re here for your brother, not so you can get laid,” Bobby spat.

“It’s alright. It makes me happy that Dean has a crush,” he chuckled.

“I do not,” Dean shot back.

“Dean likes Anna, Dean likes Anna,” Sam sang.

Dean threw one of Sam’s jackets at his face. “So what’s up? How’s Nurse Tippens been?”

“See, I would say good, but…” Sam stopped. He didn’t want to sound like he was sticking up for the mysterious nurse who came and went, but he also didn’t want to send the wrong message, so he chose his words carefully. “I had a conversation with Adam, and he told me that he can overhear Cas and how he cares more for me than he lets on.”

“What are you saying?” Dean got concerned.

“He’s not trying to keep me here, is he?”

Dean looked at Bobby, but he offered nothing but a blank stare. “I’m doubt it, but if he is, I’ll find out.”

“Find out what?” 

Everyone looked at Castiel as he entered the room, a chart in hand.”Sam, did you take that pill yet? I wanna see how you do on it.”

Sam quickly swallowed it, and continued to stare. 

“Well, we’re gonna go,” Dean started, “to the cafeteria and grab some lunch, we’ll be right back.”

Sam pleaded with his eyes for them to come back, but they left.

“So, what’s up?”

Cas sat on the bed. “Nothing, just wondering how much longer you should stay here. Dr. Masters says that you were still have suicidal thoughts while on the amantadine, so I thought that zoloft would be a good try. Unfortunately it has a few side effects.”

“Like?” 

“Drowsiness, nausea, dry mouth, insomnia, and decreased libido.” Nurse Tippens laughed. “That last one always seems to get people.”

“Not me, I couldn’t care less, honestly,” Sam said without thinking. Why did he feel the need to tell this guy everything that crossed his mind?

“Really? Did something happen in your childhood, or a bad experience?”

“No, it’s…”

“Or are you asexual?”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. Not only did someone know what that actually meant, but they treated it like it was a normal thing, not an issue. “Y-yeah, actually.”

“Well, I mean, I’m pretty indifferent myself, so I never understood the whole thing, honestly.”

“Damn,” Sam muttered out loud. He didn’t mean to, but now he didn’t seem to mind if this dude was keeping him here.

“Also, I heard part of your conversation with Adam the other day,” Cas said while looking at his clipboard. “And please know, while I care for you, I’m only trying to heal you. You can walk out these doors any time you want to. I do empathize with you, yes. And I’m glad to have created a good rapport with you, but it’s my job to make sure you’re healthy.” He sat on the bed next to Sam and put his hand on his middle back. “I know what you’re going through, okay? And I’d still want to check up on you, even when you leave this place.”

“But will I ever leave this place?”

“As long as I’m working the seventh floor, you have a good chance.”

. . .

Castiel pulled up into his small driveway, and was greeted at the door by his black cat, Dmitri. Once he finally was able to get his shoes off without stepping on the purring feline, he plopped onto the couch and groaned. A ten hour shift was enough to take the life out of anyone. But, he promised that he would go out once this week with Anna, so he forced himself to get back up after a moment of rest, and went to his room.

He stripped off his scrubs and picked out a deep purple button down, a sweater vest, and a pair of jeans. Once he put his black dress shoes on, he heard a knock at the door, and saw Dmitri run towards it, meowing at the unknown source of the noise. Cas scooped him up into his arms and opened the door.

“Hey, Cas. You ready to go?” Anna asked, who was wearing a t-shirt dress, a beanie, and some converse. She looked him up and down. “You know we’re going to a bar, right?”

“And?” he responded plainly.

“Do you even own a t-shirt?” She laughed. 

Cas breathed out of his nose, and put Dmitri back down before filling his food bowl, and exiting his house. Locking the door behind him, he turned and hopped into Anna’s car. She quickly pulled out of the driveway, and they were on their way to the bar. “So,” she began, “Sam’s brother, Dean, I think he’s into me.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about Sam.” 

“You can’t be serious?” She swerved a bit to avoid a pothole.

Castiel stared out the window. “I think he is. But I obviously wouldn’t risk my job.”

“Is he also..?”

“Asexual? Yes.” Cas faced Anna. “Gay, bi, or pan? Not sure, he hasn’t told Meg anything like that.”

“That’s good that he would understand how you are. I don’t have to worry about that with Dean, I don’t think. I’d let that man…”

“Anna, you can stop before this gets too detailed,” Castiel laughed nervously.

“Sorry, but he’s definitely reciprocated interest in little ways. He was staring at me the other day in the lunch line, and even offered to walk me back to Sam’s room after lunch.” She smiled, remembering the moment. “But, I’d have to wait until Sam left for anything to be official.”

“I’m sure he’ll leave fairly soon, but I won’t discharge him before he needs to be just so you can get some D from Dean,” he said completely deadpan.

“Oh my god Castiel, chill out, or so help me…”

“You’ll turn the car around like our trip last summer?”

“Maybe!” she yelled, but Anna couldn’t contain her laughter for long. “But seriously for a second, I could see Sam liking you. He always seems to get distracted as soon as you walk into the room. But the question is, do you like him?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, I do, I think. I’d love to talk to him more and learn more than I already know. And I want to help him, God I want to help him.”

Anna smirked. “There’s the nurse coming out of ya.”


	5. Secrets, secrets are no fun

“Okay but, why did you decide to major in journalism? I thought you said you were interested in law for the longest time?” Meg questioned, ready to write.

Sam sat up in his bed, wearing a hoodie and some sweats. It was one of those days. “I thought I was, but I figured out that it was just what my dad wanted me to do.” Sam thought for a moment. “Actually, he wanted me to go into the family business, which was just being a mechanic with him or starting the body shop with Dean. But when I refused, he still wanted me to make a good living, so he settled on lawyer. But really, I enjoy reading and being able to get my thoughts down on paper, so I began writing in high school and taking as many classes as I could.”

Dr. Masters was furiously writing and scribbling onto her clipboard. “What exactly do you write about?”

“My, uh… own experiences with monsters, kind of.” His hair fell into his face. “I went even more downhill once my dad died, so, ya know…”

“You told me about the bar incident. What exactly was he defending you for? I thought you said he didn’t support equal rights.”

Sam sighed. “He doesn’t, or didn’t, but I guess it’s one of those things, like how Dean used to mess with me as a kid, but nobody else could? I don’t know. I guess only my dad could call me a faggot, and not some drunk in the bar.” Tears began to well up in Sam’s eyes as the painful memories of abuse flooded his mind.

“We can stop talking, if you want,” Meg said, resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “If it’s too much, we can pick up after dinner tonight or tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” Sam replied, looking away. 

“Okay, I’ll let Nurse Tippens in so he can give you your medicine.” She stood and smiled at Sam before walking out, closing the door behind her. Not even a minute later, Castiel walked in.

“I have your medicine.” He stopped, seeing Sam’s tears. “Ah, I see your talk was… not as good today. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Sam snapped. “I feel like I’m doing better, then I dwell on my problems, which makes me feel bad again.” Sam put his arms out in front of him, and stared. “I want to cut, so badly right now.”

Castiel sat on the bed next to Sam, “I actually have a solution for that that I thought you might find helpful.” He pulled out a small bottle of lotion from his pocket that smelled like vanilla, and opened it. “Whenever you feel the need to harm yourself...” Castiel opened the bottle squeezing some on his hands and rubbing it in. “...do the opposite…” He began to softly rub his hands up and down Sam’s forearms, spreading the scent. “...and be kind to yourself.” He closed the bottle back, and handed it to Sam. “I’d keep that and use it whenever you felt the need.”

Sam looked at the bottle, and at his arms. The gesture was such a kind one, that Sam didn’t even know how to respond. The touch was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and Castiel knew exactly how to comfort him. Tears began to flow once again, and he hugged Castiel. 

Cas tensed at first, but returned the hug. Sam buried his face into his shoulder, letting his sniffles fill the room. He didn’t know that only being in each other's company could be so comforting, and started to turn sideways, and lay down, pulling Cas with him.

When Sam was the only one laying down, he looked up expectantly at Cas, who was still sitting up and staring straight ahead. “I shouldn’t…”

“But you should,” Sam whispered, putting his arms up .

Castiel thought for a moment, looked at the door, and slowly lied down. Sam went back to burying his face into Cas, and Castiel just held him, stroking his hair. His mind was racing about HIPAA, and the fact that another nurse could walk in at any moment. But he couldn’t make himself get up, either.

He obviously smelled the vanilla on Sam, but the musky smell of his overworn hoodie made him feel closer to Sam, and the fact that his luscious hair was between his fingers made him feel high. He wanted Sam, but this was so wrong, and he didn’t know if he could do this.

Sam could sense Nurse Tippens’ intense focus on anything but him, it seemed. “Castiel?” he asked, looking up. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sam… I’m alright.” Castiel deeply acknowledged. “I sense that you know this is wrong, though.”

“But I don’t want this to go any farther.”

“I’m okay with that, but I feel that even doing this is a violation of my job description, because this is more than what a nurse and their patient are supposed to do.” He looked into Sam’s eyes, and saw aged whiskey staring back at him. “I don’t know if I can do this until you’re discharged…”

Sam reached over and squeezed Castiel’s arm to keep him in bed, and pleaded with his eyes. “Please… you understand what I’m going through. You said yourself that you don’t care about sex. Please, I’ve been looking for someone like you.”

Castiel took Sam’s hands in his own. “I want this, I really do. But I have to wait until you’re ready to be discharged, or it’s my career. But it can happen very soon, because you are improving.”

“But, you’re saying it just won’t happen right now?” Sam looked sad, but hopeful.

“Yes.” Castiel stood up, looking down at Sam. “Soon, okay?”

Sam groaned, but nodded. “But can you at least come in here more?”

Castiel chuckled. “I do have other patients, but I’ll try to come in here more often, even if it’s only for lunch and my breaks.” He beamed at Sam, and left him to lie down by himself.

. . .

It was late, and almost time for Castiel’s shift to end. He was wondering where Anna was so he could say goodnight to her. And he wondered why Dean had only come by for a short time to visit Sam when he usually spent all of his time after work here.

He shrugged it off once he did a lap around the seventh floor and still didn’t see her, so he grabbed his trench coat from behind the desk, and walked to the elevator. On his way down, he smelled a strong essence of perfume, but decided to ignore it.

As soon as he stepped out onto the main floor, he saw Dean walking towards the elevators. “Hello, Dean. Where were you today?”

“Dean quickly shifted his eyes to the corner and back. “I was… got caught up at work. Can I see Sam?”

Castiel saw red marks on his neck that disappeared all the way under his shirt. He squinted at Dean, the whole thing now making sense. “Only for a short time.” He crossed his arms. “So work huh?”

Dean clearly looked nervous, but not outwardly. His eyes clearly gave it away. “Y-yep. I’m-I’m gonna go see Sam, okay? I’ll talk to you later…” He did all he could not to run inside the elevator.

Cas sighed and walked outside, and there he saw Anna, struggling to unlock her car.

“Hey, Nurse Milton!” he called out.

She looked up, not knowing who to expect since nobody but patients called her nurse, but the color drained from her face when she saw that it was Cas. “H-Hey.”

“So I saw Dean, and I’ll be honest, there are too many coincidences going on right now.” Castiel folded his arms.

“Cas, listen, I‘m so sorry! We didn’t do anything but kiss, alright? Oh God, please don’t tell Chuck or anyone else in hospital management…” she shakily replied. Anna looked distraught. “He understands me, and made me feel so wanted, Cas. I haven’t had that in a long time.”

Cas frowned. “I’m not going to, but I recommend being more careful next time. It’s my job to report these things.” He sighed. “But you’re my best friend, so I’ll keep it quiet. But either go to one of your houses or at least off campus.”

Anna closed her eyes and breathed out of her nose heavily. “Thank you, I’ll be more careful” She opened her eyes, looking more relaxed. “And don’t think I don’t know something is going on between you and Sam, I saw the you close the door when you went in there.”

Cas turned red. “I…”

“It’s fine, now we’re even.” She playfully punched his arm. “But like you said, be careful.”

. . .

“Dean, I gotta tell you something.” Sam all but yelled. He was excited.

“Me too, but you first!” Dean cherished these brotherly moments that made them feel like girls in a chick-flick, although he’d never admit to it.

“Castiel likes me, and he’s also ace!”

Dean’s smile faded a bit. “So, he is keeping..?”

“No, like we’re not doing anything now, and he’s not keeping me here. But we are gonna see each other after I get discharged.”

“Well that’s good, just be careful, because I’m sure he’s bound by some legal stuff.” Dean still wasn’t smiling anymore. “But you’re sure this time that…”

“Yeah Dean, I’m sure. He told me that he’s ace.”

“Not like-”

“No Dean, please stop. I’m sure this time, okay?” He rubbed his temples, trying not to remember the past. He was sure that Cas wasn’t screwing with him just to embarrass him.

“On a lighter note, Anna and I are, well…” Dean snickered.

“Oh my God, you haven’t,” Sam stuttered. 

“Whoa, we haven’t done THAT yet, but I mean, we’re talking and doing other stuff.”

Sam got up a little bit, just enough to poke Dean’s side and laugh. Dean didn’t find it as funny, but couldn’t help but play along and pretend to be offended. “So, the food’s good, I usually come here to eat now, since usually you’re the one to cook.”

“Yeah, usually.” He started to feel guilt, and looked up at Dean. “Money’s tight, isn’t it?” Sam sighed.

“Not really. Would your odd jobs and newspaper stories help? Sure. But working in a body shop puts food on the table.” Dean shrugged.

“It makes me feel better, knowing that Dean-bean can take care of himself,” Sam snickered.

“Shut the hell up.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”


	6. Unless you share with everyone

Sam was writing another short story, this time involving a vampire, who showed up at the worst and most desperate times. Kind of like depression, but Sam made him suck blood from his victims instead of them making themselves bleed. 

Castiel was sitting in the corner, contently working at his computer stand. “What are you writing about this time, Sam?”

“A monster that is like depression. But I’m gonna try to spin a happy ending into it, like Dr. Masters recommended. She said it’s the little things that will change my attitude.”

“She’s right ya know…” Cas was interrupted by a short man with long hair like Sam’s who busted the door open, holding a Spencer’s bag.

“Cassy, how’s work?”

Castiel stood up, fury in his eyes. “For the third time Gabriel, you can NOT just come into my place of work and walk into patient’s rooms! How did you get in anyway?”

The man smiled slyly, his teeth disappearing under his upper lip. “Not your concern.”

Castiel walked over to Gabriel, and shoved him out, slamming the door in his face. He then put on a mock smile. “Excuse me, Mr. Winchester.”

He walked out of Sam’s room, shoved Gabriel through the hall and out the double doors that led into the psychiatric ward. “Gabriel, what the hell? You can NOT just come into this place; you can’t invade people’s privacy, nor trust that they won’t hurt you.” He looked at his brother’s shirt, which said “orgasm donor” on it. “Especially not in THAT shirt.”

The shorter man looked down. “Sorry I guess, I just wanted to say that we haven’t talked in awhile, and since you won’t update your fucking phone, I doubt you’ve been getting my calls.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy with-” He motioned at the double doors.

“Oh don’t think I didn’t see that tall piece of eye candy you were with. What’s his name? Something Winchester?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“He’s a patient, and that’s none of your business. Ask him yourself at a different time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like him, I hear talk in the store.”

“From who?”

“People in Spencer’s think that we’re all deaf or something, because some of your team in there talks about you and some tall resident who you seem to hit it off.” Gabriel chuckled. “I can also tell you who in there has bought which didlos, and who I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay!” Castiel yelled. He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. Can’t we just meet up for dinner tonight and talk about your hypersexual life then?”

“Whatever you want, brother.” He turned to walk away, but turned around before entering an elevator. “Make sure this guy isn’t a bag of dicks if you do like him.”

Cas sighed, scanned his badge, and walked back into the psych ward, where he watched as multiple patients talked to themselves, hallucinated conversations with various things, and had dead looks on their faces. He quickly checked his watch, and expected Dean and Bobby to be here soon. 

. . .

After giving medicine to various patients, Castiel went back to Sam’s room to be greeted by Dean and Bobby. “Hello.”

“Cas, what’s the 411?” Dean questioned.

“I’m sorry..?”

“How’s Sam?” Dean clarified, chuckling.

“Oh, he’s doing better, and should be able to go home soon with his new prescription.” He looked over and smiled at Sam, who was looking at him with a somber face.

“That’s my boy,” Bobby laughed. “I knew he’d tough this one out.” He patted Sam on the back. 

“Yeah, I haven’t even tried to hurt myself in over a week. The medicine is at least helping me control myself when I have intrusive thoughts, and I can concentrate surprisingly better on my writing and reading without getting simultaneously depressed.”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “So he’ll be able to come back home and… do other things?”

Nurse Tippens squinted. “Yes, I believe so.”

Sam brightened up a bit, not thinking that they would be able to finally be together once he left. He was excited to see where their relationship went, because he had yet to be in a happy relationship where he didn’t have to always feel out of place with his sexuality.

Sam looked over at Bobby. “Maybe I’ll be able to help you guys part time once I get back home. Dr. Masters said that consistency would also help me, so instead of doing only odd jobs, maybe I could help you at the body shop.”

“Nothing would make me happier, boy.”

. . .

It was officially Sam’s last night on the seventh floor of the Lawrence Memorial Hospital. After another week of therapy and talking to Castiel, he knew what he wanted to do. He felt better than ever, and also felt confident in his future actions. He pressed the nurse call button on the side of his bed.

Anna appeared in the doorway within two minutes. “Can I help you, Sam?” 

Sam noticed the hickey on her neck, despite the fact that she tried to hide it with a long sleeved t-shirt and snickered. “Yeah, can you send in Nurse Tippens?”

She looked puzzled, but said okay. Nurse Tippens appeared a moment later and shut the door behind him. Sam got up, and wrapped his arms around Castiel, who again tensed at first before returning the affectionate action.

He just realized how much taller he was than Cas. “I need to tell you something.”

“Anything, Sam.”

“These past few weeks, I thought would be the worst of my life. But, they turned out to be a learning experience, and while I’m not ‘cured,’ I am in a better state than before.”

Castiel’s grip tightened. “That’s my job.”

Sam pulled away and looked down at Cas, still keeping his hands on his shoulders. “No Castiel, it’s not. It’s not your job to make me feel special, or bullshit with me during the day, or check on me when you think I’m sleeping, or hold my hand when I’m receiving an IV or taking new medicine. None of that is your job, which is why I’m thanking you.”

Cas’s eyes were glazed over, which immediately triggered Sam’s eyes to do the same as they teared up. He hugged Sam again, this time caressing his head and stroking his hair, working them both through their tears. He sniffled, thinking about all of the memories they had shared that he thought Sam didn’t care to remember. He only seemed focused on healing him, and didn’t even realize the amount of time and influence he spent on Sam Winchester.

Knowing that the night shift nurses were uninterested in checking up on every patient, Castiel walked them over to the door, slid down, and sat on the floor, where he continued to caress Sam. Sam shifted so he was next to Castiel, but his legs were on top of Castiel’s legs. He wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, and leaned his head against the door like Castiel.

“Now I don’t mind staying as much, knowing that you would always watch over me,” Sam whispered.

“I’ll always watch over you.”


	7. Coming Home

Dean all but kicked the door open to their house, and threw the box of Sam’s belongings onto the floor.

“Geez Dean, you act like you’re the one who’s been away from home.” Sam snidely added.

“It ain’t home without my brother.” Dean pulled Sam down into a hug, and roughly patted his back. “It’s good to have you back, Sammy.”

Nurse Milton followed in after them. “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at her, and grabbed her hand once he let go of Sam. “What do you say Sammy, want to join us upstairs for a movie?”

“Honestly? I just really want to crash on the couch…” He fell onto the couch face-down, not caring what noises it made when he fell, or what kind of trouble that Dean was about to get into. All he knew what that Cas had given him his number, and he’d be ready to call it later.

“Okay, well let me know if you need anything, alright? We’re gonna watch Casa E-”

“DEAN.”

“My bad. Uh, I mean Deadpool. Night!” Dean and Anna snickered like little kids before running upstairs. Once they were gone, Sam texted Castiel, asking when he was free, and decided to take a nap, knowing that he was working.

. . .

Sam awoke to a few various messages, but the most important one inviting Sam over to Castiel’s for a late dinner. He smiled, and sent a reply back, excited for the upcoming night.

He sighed and threw his legs over the couch, but still groggy from his nap. He walked to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then went to his room to get a fresh shirt. Once he was ready, he knocked on Dean’s door, only to hear shuffling before being allowed in.

Sam poked his head in, and saw Dean, shirtless, and Anna wearing Dean’s oversized t-shirt. Repulsed, he managed to speak. “I’m going to Castiel’s. See you later?”

“See ya Sammy!” Dean waved, and then winked. Anna also waved, not caring about how awkward the situation was.

He walked away and into his room yet again to see if his cologne was on his dresser, or if Dean stole it again. After he hopelessly got done searching, he sighed and walked out.

But before he walked out the door, he looked over on the ground near his bed. He stopped and saw the box that had his knives in it, and tilted his head at it. He felt conflicted, and didn’t feel bad at the moment, but was he crazy? Did he miss them?

He walked over to the box, and picked it up. Right then, Dean walked through his door with the cologne that he stole, but stopped when he saw Sam, and chuckled. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were going to Cas-” But he saw the box too, and immediately stopped smiling. He set the cologne bottle on Sam’s nightstand and stood in front of Sam. “Sammy, hand me the box.”

“De, I’m not a ki-”

“Hand me the box.” Dean outstretched his arms, ready to receive the box full of bad memories.

Sam refused, and brushed past him, only to be closely followed by Dean, who was so on edge that he wouldn’t shut up.

They reached the kitchen, where Sam pulled out the photos of his mom, and set them on the counter. He tossed the entire box into the garbage, and picked up the photos once again. Dean looked taken aback. “I didn’t…”

“Know I had these?” Sam looked down at them and warmly smiled. “You can have them.” He shoved the pictures into Dean’s chest, who still hadn’t moved from his spot in the kitchen. Sam shuffled past him, and walked out the door.

. . .

Sam looked down at his phone, then up at the street number next to Castiel’s door, praying that this was the right house. He knocked, and before his anxiety could get any more wild ideas, he heard scratching at the door, followed by quick feet.

“Dmitri, no!” Sam heard Cas scream. He heard more moving around before the door was opened, revealing Castiel in some jeans, a nice flannel, and a zipped up vest. “Ah, Sam. Please come in,” Cas motioned. He was holding who Sam assumed to be the cat, Dmitri, and walked inside the large house.

“Hey Castiel,” Sam spoke. He smiled at Cas, loving the fact that he could be with him and they could be a thing without any rules being broken,

Cas smiled and put Dmitri down once the door was closed. The black cat immediately ran over to Sam’s feet, and began sniffing. He sniffed all up and down Sam’s legs until he was satisfied enough to start rubbing his face all over his light jeans. “I think he likes you, which is a first for guests.”

“Well that’s good, I’m sure his opinion to me is important to you.” Sam leaned down to pet Dmitri and was met with some of the softest fur he had ever felt. The feline was pressing his face into Sam’s hand, wanting more affection than he could give. Sam chuckled. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

“He is, when he’s not trying to be a guard dog and attack my guests.” Cas put his hands on his hips and looked at his cat. “But enough about this furball, please come sit.” He walked Sam over to the table where pasta and bread was already sitting, and pulled out a chair for Sam.

Sam smiled and politely took it. “This is a really big house you have. And you live by yourself?”

“Of course not! I have Dmitri,” Castiel chuckled and then sat down, admiring Sam’s outfit. He loved tight fitting shirts on Sam. “You look dashing tonight.”

“Oh,” Sam stuttered and blushed. “Uh, thanks.”

“Sorry, do compliments like that make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s just been a while since someone has said anything like that.” He looked at his lap. “Anyone I cared to hear it from, anyway.”

Castiel has started to put pasta on both plates. “Meaning..?”

Sam sighed. “I get catcalled by men, like a lot. Sometimes women, but more often than not, they’re respectable. I mean, I like guys only, but calls like that aren’t compliments, they’re embarrassing.”

“I know what you mean. It happened to me in college before, well,” he motioned at himself, “I got these crow’s feet and gray hairs.”

“And yet, you still look good.”

Cas laughed. “Oh look, the ace guy complimented me.”

“You should feel special.”

“Oh, I do.”

They sat in silence for about ten minutes while they are their food, only stopping when Sam made a compliment about the alfredo, the bread, etc. Cas couldn’t help but admire Sam when he finished eating first. His patient, someone he cared about, had come so far along. Hardly anyone could tell the hell he had been through. “What?” Sam questioned.

Castiel caught himself staring. “Sorry, I just… I just can’t believe how far you’ve come these past few weeks.”

Sam stood up, motioning for Cas to do the same. “How so?”

Cas grabbed Sam’s hand and led him to the couch, where they both sat down on the cool leather. “You almost have a different outlook on life now. You’re joking more, you complimented me a couple times, and it’s easier to carry on a conversation now. I just adore the progress you’ve made.”

Sam sheepishly leaned over to put his head on Castiel’s shoulder, and Cas wrapped his arm around him. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” He thought for a moment. “And, well, Zoloft kind of helps.”

They both snickered, but enjoyed the company of each other for a few moments, taking each other in. Sam loved the smell of Castiel’s cologne, and it was a fresh change to see him in something other than scrubs. Castiel loved being able to hold Sam without breaking rules, and his hair might as well have been a pillow on Castiel’s shoulder, because holy shit it was soft, Cas thought. 

“When did you find out you were asexual?” Sam questioned. He realized after he asked that it was a personal question, but couldn’t stop himself. He had yet to meet another ace man.

Castiel was a little taken aback by the question, but figured, what the hell. “I mean, I had to do certain things before I could figure out what I did and didn’t like. I don’t particularly dislike anything, but it’s not my favorite.”

“Funny thing actually,” Sam sat up for a quick moment. “I haven’t done anything, but I’m too repulsed to try.”

“And that’s why I like being neutral.” Castiel pulled Sam towards his face. “I don’t care if we end up sleeping together tonight, or actually sleeping together in my bed tonight.” He bumped foreheads with Sam, and grinned. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Sam blushed a little bit. “Ya know, it’s one thing joking about it, but actually talking about it in the moment almost makes me feel… embarrassed, if that makes sense. I don’t know what it is.” But he quickly looked at Castiel. “Not that I like you any less,” he quickly added.

Cas smiled. “I understand. I honestly struggled with how I identified all throughout high school and college. And it makes things extra complicated that I’m panromantic. Try explaining THAT to ignorant people,” he said harshly. He held Sam closer. “It makes me… happy… knowing that someone I’m talking to gets all of this.”

Sam brought his arm around and gently rested it on Castiel’s hip. “I really do. And I know what you mean. Trying to explain to my dad that I liked men…” he choked up. “And then trying to explain that I didn’t like anyone that way…” Sam felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

“He thought you had to be fixed?” Cas added sternly.

Sam nodded.

Cas squeezed Sam a little bit tighter. “I hate when people do that, no offence to your dad. But you don’t need to be fixed, Sam Winchester. Nothing about you needs to be fixed. You are perfect the way you are, you hear me?”

Sam shifted some more so he was almost on top of Castiel at this point. He couldn’t get enough of being close to this man. Touching, breathing him in, feeling the softness of his sweater against his scruff...

Sam looked at Cas, unsure of what he wanted to happen next. Castiel tried to lean forward a little bit, eyebrows raised. He had a questioning look on his face.

“Nah,” Sam laughed.


	8. Life works out

Sam was just about done for the day with work, and definitely ready for a shower. He took off his work shirt, greasy and sweaty, and was about to walk home, when Castiel called him on his cell phone. He quickly rubbed his hands off on a nearby dish towel, and waved good-bye to Bobby, who was doing better after his fit this morning. 

“Hey,” Sam said. “Just wondering about you.”

“Hello Sam, Dean and I have something for you,” Cas replied maliciously.

Sam stopped in his tracks, and smiled. “Can I ask what it is?”

Cas huffed. “You can ask, but I won’t tell you. You’ll find out when you get home.”

“Fine, alright,” Sam chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.” He hung up, and quickly took his medicine out of his pocket before he forgot.

. . .

When Sam walked through the door, he expected to be bombarded with something, but was surprised that there wasn’t a surprise. He shrugged it off, putting faith in his boyfriend and brother, and decided to go upstairs and take a shower.

As soon as Sam closed the bathroom door, Castiel, Dean, and Anna came out of Dean’s room and quickly shuffled to the living room. Dean put the heavy white labrador on the ground, where she obediently sat. Dean didn’t want her making too much noise going into the living room, so he carried her. Cas quickly put the red harness on her with the words “psychiatric service dog” on it, and they all sat on the couch, eagerly awaiting Sam’s arrival.

“Hey Tippens,” Dean started. “I saw Sammy do something the other day that I thought you would be proud of.” He leaned in and smiled. “He threw all of his knives away.”

“The ones that-?”

“Those are the ones!” he laughed. “I didn’t know what to think at the time, but something came over him and he took it upon himself to do that.”

Anna grinned. “And here I was, thinking that it was just an improvement that he remembered to take his medicine.”

“Well, that’s partially my fault,” Castiel replied. They all laughed. “But once it started becoming a routine for me, it became a routine for him.”

“He also started publishing his stories again. Because sometimes he’ll hit a dry spell of no writing, just sleeping.”

“He told me that,” Cas pointed out. “But yes, I’ve seen his short stories in the paper.”

“I thought he was still doing odd jobs,” Anna commented. “I could have sworn he was at my neighbor’s fixing a window.”

“He really keeps himself busy now, but it’s all…” Dean couldn’t find the right word.

“Consistent?” Anna and Cas said simultaneously. They chuckled together, remembering Dr. Masters’ advice.

Dean screwed up his face. “Nerds.”

They sat in silence for a few moments until they heard footsteps from down the hall. Sam walked in with wet hair and in sweat pants, only to be scared out of his mind by the small gathering of people on the couch.

His eyes immediately settled on the dog, who started wagging her tail once she saw Sam. “Who-”

“She’s yours, Sammy,” Dean said.

“She’s a psychiatric service dog,” Anna added.

“We thought you should name her,” Cas chimed in.

Sam almost looked like he was gonna cry. He fell to his knees to pet the dog, who seemed hesitant at the attention. Once she sniffed his hand however, and realized that he was her owner, she wagged her tail more furiously and forced her face into his hand. 

Sam started crying, and hugged her. He looked at Cas through blurry eyes, and mouthed a thank you. They had talked once about getting a dog, and the fact that Cas was forgetful and Sam wasn’t in the groove of taking medicine, but he couldn’t believe that Castiel went this far.

“For, ya know, when I can’t be here for you. She’ll deter any bad behaviors you do and remind you to take your medicine.”

Sam stood up and brought the the three of them into a hug. Still crying, he squeezed them with his long arms and couldn’t stop thanking them. 

He couldn’t believe the progress he had made. Did he still have bad days? Sure. But the amount of help he was receiving and the amount of love emanating from his big brother was enormous. Castiel’s presence made him wonder where their relationship would take them, knowing it was special.

. . .

Sam held Castiel’s hand as they walked down the street with the dog on a leash. 

“I can’t believe you guys actually got a registered service dog,” Sam huffed.

“Well believe it because, uh… she... already likes you,” Cas replied. “Speaking of which, what are you going to name her, Sam?”

“Salina, like the city,” Sam responded. “I don’t think I want to leave Kansas. There are too many memories here.”

“I thought that’s why you wanted to leave?” Cas smiled. 

“Now, I’d hate to forget these past several months.” He looked over at Cas. “They’ve changed me.”

Cas squeezed Sam’s hand and they kept walking.

After another few minutes of walking, they happened upon Maine Street, where Castiel practically ran into Sam because he stopped so quickly.

Salina whined at Sam as his heart rate elevated, and she began nudging his hand. He pet her to calm her down, and he stared ahead at Lawrence Memorial Hospital.

Castiel moved his hand up Sam’s shoulder to his bicep, and began gently pulling. “Sam, let’s go.”

He stayed put and continued looking ahead, both beings trying to pull him away from the clear obstruction of their walk. Floods of memories went by. He didn’t know if he’d see certain people ever again: Adam, Meg, the lady at the desk, nobody. They all played important parts in his life there. But none of that mattered.

He was done. He left because in their book, he was healed. 

He thought, he may never again be normal. Hell, maybe he never was. But maybe it was just him. Living with mental illness and coping was just him.

Sam sighed. He was glad to have Cas by his side. Someone who understood the bumpy roads he had to cross. And he never would have met him without being admitted to the hospital. He looked over at Cas and half-smiled.

Cas looked confused, but smiled back anyway. “Sam?”

He leaned over and pulled the smaller man into a hug. “Thank you.”


End file.
